


Dreamcatcher

by dear_rabbit



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood, Death, Drama, Drug Addiction, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Ghosts, Gore, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Multi, Murder, Romance, Tragedy/Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_rabbit/pseuds/dear_rabbit
Summary: When a body is discovered in an alleyway behind Skeeter's Pub, Detective Tucker is put on the case. Unfortunately, with no leads, Craig is forced to get into contact with someone from his past he'd rather forget.Tweek Tweak is a man with a secret. A secret he's been harboring since South Park elementary, and Craig soon discovers it is true what everyone says... There's something strange about that Tweak boy.





	1. Who killed Kenny?

**Author's Note:**

> an idea i've had for a while. first chapter will be shorter than other chapters, because this is a prologue!! thanks for reading. reviews are super welcome!

_Running, running, running._

 

_  
  
_The air around the crime scene was thick, thick with the stench of blood and sweat. The sight before him was even more disturbing than the smell. A body--or, what used to be one, laid on a pile of foul garbage, just tossed carelessly into the trash bin as if that was all he was. Trash.  
  
When Kenny McCormick called Craig Tucker the night before his body was discovered, he was surprised to say the least. The two were closer than ever in high school, but once that was over, and they'd gone their separate ways, they fell out of contact. The night of the phone call, it was late, and Craig was on his way home, so he didn't catch the details, but Kenny sounded panicked. Scared. He was out of breath, running from something, or someone, and desperately trying to convey to Craig what he'd seen. Unfortunate for them both that Craig couldn't hear anything over his ragged breathing, and the shouting behind him. All he'd gathered was that whoever was chasing him was male.  
  
He stared at Kenny's mangled body. There was so much anger in every strike that killed him. It was hard to look at. The sickly smell of exposed flesh still ripe in the air.   
  
"Tucker," his partner called to him from across the scene. She looked disturbed to say the least as she stood up straight again. "It's not possible to work on a case like this and not know the victim in such a small town." She pulled her ponytail tighter in thought. "I just can't believe it was Kenny..."  
  
"Yeah," Craig replied, sounding stoic as usual, however he was deeply disturbed. He'd seen plenty of murders in his time as a detective. Plenty of bloody wounds and gashes, gore all around, but none had been on Kenny, and he was  _destroyed._ His face was beaten to a bloody pulp, nearly smashed in. If it weren't for the blond hair and signature orange parka, Craig would probably not have known it was him. Speaking of the parka, it was ripped to shreds and covered in blood, as if whoever attacked him had a tremendous reason to hate him. It felt rushed and aggressive. Whoever killed Kenny probably knew him.   
  
The worst part, however, was his stomach. The wound was so deep that parts of his flesh were missing, and his intestines were vaguely visible.  _God,_ it required strength. What kind of monster was Kenny running from. It was becoming harder and harder for him to believe that the criminal was even human.  
  
"Wendy," he called back to his partner. "I'm taking this case."  
  
"I figured and I'll help," she said, pulling her phone out. "What a way to start a morning. May he rest in peace..."  
  
"Yeah," Craig repeated. "Jesus Christ, Kenny... I'm sorry I couldn't hear you." He felt regret, guilt, but if there was one thing he was capable of doing to help his late friend, it was finding out who did this, and by the fucking gods, he was going to find out who did this.  
  
"Shit, the reporters." Wendy turned around, bending under the caution tape to try and block them off. There were a couple other detectives with them, and they turned to try and hide the scene. There was no reason for the South Park Gazette to get any information they were trying to keep hidden. Especially so early on in a case.   
  
"Does this recent killing have anything to do with the previous ones?!" a man with a camera yelled.  
  
"As of right now, we're unsure," Wendy replied. "We will make a statement when we're ready."  
  
Craig was thankful she was taking care of it, because he had no energy right then. The forensics team had shown up by now, and soon enough the body would be taken away. Craig had no clues except his own conclusions, which he couldn't even back up. He already knew this was going to take a toll on him, but he couldn't get to his old friend in time and it felt as though he was partly to blame for this death.  
  
 _If I just listened better, maybe I would have heard._  
  
Wendy's aggravated sigh brought him out of his thoughts. "They're satisfied for now, at least. I'll help you, Craig, but with no leads to go by this is going to be a tough one. Kenny was always a good person. He didn't deserve this."  
  
"Who would even want to kill Kenny? For what purpose? He was such a good guy." The forensics team began dispersing, one of which, Red Tucker, came up to the two detectives. "It's disgusting."  
  
"Well, that's what we're here to find out." Wendy shoved her phone in her pocket again. She was trying to stay strong, but Craig could tell she was upset. Her shoulders were slightly shaking, and her face was pale as a sheet. With the contrast of her dark hair, she looked especially zombie-like. "Just who on earth killed Kenny McCormick?"


	2. The Man who Knew Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! now that the prologue is over we can get the ball rolling. i hope you enjoy what i have in store.

_How do you kill a man that can't die?_

 

 

Kenny always used to tell Craig that he was immortal, back in elementary school until the end of high school. He would climb to the top of the roof and say "I'll jump!" only to have Craig frantically try and bring him down. He didn't understand why he seemed so hell bent on proving it, especially since no one believed him except Eric. Eric, who was grumpy and rude to everyone, but the off chance he did show some kindness, it seemed to be directed to Kenny.

_"Go ahead and die then. You'll just come back,"_ he would mutter to himself with crossed arms.   
  
_"If you know, then why do you look so worried?"_ Kenny would reply with a chuckle.  
  
When Eric received the news of Kenny's death, he looked unaffected; simply yelling, "Good! That poor piece of crap! He got what was coming to him!" and then storming down the halls of the detective's quarters, presumably to go cry somewhere in peace. It was easy to see how affected he really was. How affected  _everyone_ really was.  
  
As much as they tried to keep it on the down low, South Park was a small town. Once one person knew, everyone knew. News of Kenny's murder even reached down to Denver, because the news was all over the death of a white boy with a promising future. Nevermind the fact that Kenny himself said school wasn't for him, and never attended university. The entire story got amped up into something almost entirely made up. Wendy was angry about it, because she'd given the reporters virtually nothing to go by, but again, this was South Park.  
  
The office doors burst open, and a disheveled Kyle ran in. "It's not true is it?" was the first thing he yelled, eyes wide in fear of finding out. "Kenny isn't dead, right?"

"Kyle..." Wendy frowned, looking to Craig, who just stood there with his hands in his pockets. He didn't want to talk about this. He wanted now more than ever to believe that Kenny's jokes of immortality were true, and that he would wake up soon, but he knew. He knew that it wouldn't happen, and he would have to go to Kenny's parents' house and tell them too.

Kyle put his hands in his hair, at a loss for words. It almost looked like he was about to faint, so Wendy pulled up a chair and had him sit down while she went to grab him some water.

"He called me last night."

Craig looked up from his shoes, toward the redhead. "What?"

"He called me. I didn't have my phone on me since it died earlier that day. It was charging at my office, and when I went back to fetch it... there was a voicemail." He let out a long, shaky sigh. "He said... he had something important to tell me. Something I had to know... but when I called him back, he wouldn't pick up."

This was news. As much as Craig wanted to think of it as some sort of clue, all he could really think was that it made the web of information that much stickier. Why would he call Kyle? What did he need to tell him? Was  _that_ the reason he was running? Furthermore, as unfortunate as it seemed, Kyle's suspicious story put him in the place of a possible suspect.

"Where were you last night while your phone was charging?" Craig turned to his desk and picked up a small notepad, and a normal HB pencil. "I'll need all you can give me if I'm going to find out who did this."

"Oh, right..." Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed again, this time more softly. "I was out with Stan. We went out for drinks to celebrate that case I won, you know the sexual assault case."

"Ah, yeah."

"It was out of town, since he wanted to take me someplace expensive... So when I got back, I picked up my phone and saw the voicemail. But.... by that time..." He tightly gripped the bottom of his coat. "It was probably too late."

"We can't be sure until they examine the body." He scribbled down what Kyle told him. "Marsh can back this up?"

"Um, yeah." Kyle looked down, rubbing his eyes. He looked exhausted, but before he could comment on that, Wendy returned with the water. Kyle gave her a weary thank you and took a few sips. "I have his number, if you want to call him down..."

"I just need his confirmation." He whipped his phone out, taking the number from Kyle and calling Stan. It felt strange to be calling someone he disliked in these circumstances, but personal feelings had to be put aside.

When Stan picked up, Craig went right in for the kill. "Marsh, it's Detective Tucker. Kyle's down here right no-"

"Kyle? Is he okay?!"

"Could you silence yourself for a moment and let me finish." It was much less a question and more of a demand, but it got the result he was looking for. "He's fine, however there has been a murder. It's Kenny. He's..." He swallowed. "He's dead."

"What? You're joking? Craig, I swear to god, if this is one of your stupid pranks--!"

"Shut the fuck up for a moment. It's not a prank. I'm serious. Kenny is dead. He's been murdered, and he left your boy a voicemail last night. I'm only calling to confirm you two were where you said you were."

"Are you seriously accusing us? Of killing Kenny? We're suspects?" Stan was emotional as ever. It sounded like he was yelling through tears at this point, which Craig understood, however he wasn't in the mood to listen to this, so he just handed Wendy the phone. She was always good at this part.

"Ah, Stan?" she said softly. "It's me, Wendy." Stan immediately shut up. "It's... It's true. Kenny's dead. We aren't accusing you and Kyle, but we do need to confirm where you were because Kenny called Kyle some time last night before the murder happened. We don't know why."

"O-oh..." He sniffled slightly. "Well... I took Kyle out to celebrate. We went to Denver to eat and then grab some drinks... It was too unsafe to drive back since we were both kinda drunk, so we stayed in a hotel and left early the next morning. Like, today, I mean. We split up since Kyle had to get his phone."

"I see, thank you. That's just what we needed." She glanced at Craig from the corner of her eye, making a motion like she was writing, and instantly Craig grabbed his notepad and handed it to her. "Is there any other information you need to tell us, or is that it? If it is, you can come pick up Kyle right now. He's much too frazzled to go home on his own."

"I'm fine," Kyle stated, although no one who could see him would believe that. His hair was a mess, his clothes were partially buttoned. He almost looked like... No. No one Craig needed to remember. 

"You're not. You don't have to be so tough." Wendy crossed her arms, although Craig figured she could take a page out of her own book there.

\+ +

Time passed, and soon Stan had shown up to take Kyle home. They had tried to get more information from Kyle, but he had no idea what Kenny could possibly want to tell him, what could be so important that he would call so late in the day. Again, Craig was virtually at a loss. What was he supposed to do with no clues, no leads... nothing. The crime scene was even clean of fingerprints or blood of the perpetrator. Kenny's body, although brutally disfigured, also left no trails of anyone other than himself.

He'd been in later in the day to take a look at the body with Wendy, who had to back away a couple times from both the look and the smell, but he didn't blame her. He wanted to throw up himself, but somehow he found it harder to look away. This was his friend. Kenny. 

A closer examination of the body proved Craig's initial thoughts. The attack was highly aggressive, and very messy, as if it was done in a rush at first, and with some sort of heavy weapon. He didn't want to believe it was someone Kenny knew, but at this point, that was the best lead he had.

"Nasty, isn't it?" Red stood behind the two, handing them a copy of what she'd discovered. "Whatever sick fuck did this, I hope they rot in hell for the rest of their lives."

"Although I can't approve of violence, I feel like it's definitely justified in this case." Wendy took a look at the information, squinting slightly. "There was really nothing? No hints of anything or anyone else on him at all?"

"Nothing. Even though it looks rushed, whoever did it took the time to make sure they left no trail behind. Not even one spec of mystery DNA is on this boy."

"Jesus Christ," Craig muttered. "Back to square one then. All we really know is Kenny was running from  _probably_ another man, considering what I heard, and that he called both me, because I'm a detective I'd assume, and Kyle, because he had to tell him something. What that something is, we have no idea."

"Exactly. I think it's about time we go to Skeeter's to ask the crowd if they heard anything strange last night. That would be my next step."

"Good idea, Wendy." He turned to his cousin. "Thanks again, Red. We'll find the killer."

She nodded slightly, looking as though she wanted to say something else. The two detectives lingered as though they knew this, so when she finally spoke up, all eyes were directed to her. 

"Kenny used to tell people he was immortal, you know. I'm sure you guys remember. I just wish it were true." She smiled sadly, turning around. "He was always so nice to me, to everyone. Even fuckin' Cartman deserved worse treatment than what Kenny dished out. He was a good guy. The best guy... But he, like everyone else, made mistakes, you know."

"Mistakes?" the two asked in unison.

"Yeah. I mean, Kenny did drugs, sold them... He knew all the hookers and dealers, the not so nice and the super nice. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time often, and I just hope... I hope that wasn't his downfall."

"Well, we can't be sure until we crack this case."

"Yeah."

"We will, though. Kenny deserves that."

"Yeah."

\+ +

Skeeter's pub was more of a letdown than any other place or person they'd visited or talked to. It was late in the afternoon at this point, and everyone was already drunk. Trying to get information out of them was like trying to get information out of a baby. It wasn't happening. None of them seemed remotely nervous or scared either.

Once Craig had explained what happened, and what they were there for, a couple of regulars quieted up, but the majority kept drinking and guffawing like idiots. He didn't know why he was hopeful to find anything here. The lot of them would have been too drunk to even notice anything was happening outside anyway.

"A dead end again."

"Try to stay positive."

They had been back to the crime scene twice, to Skeeter's, heard from both Kyle and Stan, and took a couple laps around the town to continue their search, but they came up blank. Craig was not about to give up, however, and at the end of the day, when the rest of his coworkers were leaving, he stayed behind, sitting at his desk and going through files and notes he'd gathered through the day, rubbing his eyes as it became later and later into the evening. 

"Fuck," he groaned, turning his small desk lamp on as the last worker left the office, turning the building lights off. There was nothing here. Nothing to form a profile of any sort, nothing to make this easier. Wendy seemed to have a lot of faith that they would solve this case, but Craig was starting to doubt himself, as he always did late at night.

He frowned, picking up his coffee cup and staring at it a moment before tossing it out and leaning back in his chair. "Kenny... What happened to those immortality jokes. Did you believe them yourself, or were you just making fun? You ran, though. You ran so hard I could barely understand you. If you believed it yourself, that you'd come back to life...." He trailed off as a couple of his sheets of paper flew off his desk.

Raising an eyebrow, he looked around for an open window or the air conditioner, but the windows were all closed, and the AC was off. He bent down to pick up the papers, stacking them and setting them back on his desk, but they only flew off instantly again.

"Whoa, okay." He hopped off his chair and looked around, mildly spooked. Craig was never one to really believe in the supernatural, so he tried to pretend there was a draft somewhere, and slowly sat back down, lifting the papers and looking at them. It was standard case files about Kenny; that was the only thing he was focusing on right now anyway. 

When he'd set them down again, he squinted, watching them for a moment, as if they would fly off again, but they didn't. "Okay..." he said to himself again, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a plain brown file, which he shoved the papers into. He'd gone over it several times, and as before, there was nothing to come out of it but more questions. Before he could place the file back in his desk, however, the drawer slammed shut, nearly taking his hand with it.

He jumped back, gracefully falling right off his chair and onto his ass. "Jesus Christ, what the fuck..." There was no one there, and yet it seemed as though someone was deliberately messing with him. He narrowed his eyes, thinking maybe it was his sleep deprivation that was making him hallucinate instead, but he watched the desk drawer open and shut again, over and over, in pure shock.

He'd never hallucinated before, not like this anyway. Just what was going on? 

"Is someone there?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, but he still got one. The answer itself wasn't a spoken one, but somehow Craig understood. There  _was_ someone here, and that someone had thrown a plain brown file in front of him when he'd asked. 

The file that contained Kenny's case information.

At a loss for words, the only thing he could manage to whisper was in a strained voice.

"Kenny...?"


	3. The Man who Knew Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering if this work follows a set updating system, it doesn't! i try to update once a week but sometimes things get in the way. :') anyway, thank you for reading, once again, and i hope you enjoy!

_There is a point in your life where you realize, the only reason you haven't woken up yet, is that you're too scared to see everyone pass you by._

_Craig Tucker._

_Wake up._

 

 

It was early morning of the next day, and Craig had been up all night. By choice, definitely not. There was nothing he would rather be doing than sleeping, in his own bed, but fate had other ideas. Much more annoying ideas.

"God, Tucker, you look like you've seen a ghost. Did you sleep at all last night?" Wendy greeted him as she entered the office, hair pulled up as usual, and slightly messy.

"Um..." If only she knew how accurate her words were. Although, technically, it wasn't as if he had seen the ghost himself, but he was  _there._ He was in this office, throwing around papers to try and get someone's attention. For what reason, Craig still had no idea. He hadn't given up on finding Kenny's killer. He hadn't even stopped looking.

"I'll take that as a no," she replied, setting a cup of coffee down on his desk, and taking a sip of her own. "Did you make any progress last night? I hope so, if you stayed up into the next morning!"

"Um, well." He thought again. Progress was certainly made alright, but if it was useful progress was arguable. He'd discovered, more or less, that the ghost of Kenneth McCormick was apparently haunting him, messing with his case files in some sort of angry state. He assumed it was anger, anyway, maybe it was confusion instead. Whatever it was, it was Kenny's emotions, and he was trying to tell him something.

"Right." She raised an eyebrow. "Well, how about, when you come back to planet earth, we discuss it further, spaceman." 

He rubbed his head with a sigh. "Sorry." Telling Wendy that there was a ghost around here somewhere didn't seem like a logical response to her question, so he decided to avoid it instead. He hadn't heard Kenny past 3AM anyway, so maybe it  _was_ a hallucination or a dream of some sort. It seemed so unbelievable to be real. Unless he came back, Craig was going on the assumption that he had just drank too much coffee and... He paused, staring at the cup in front of him. He wondered if that was how  _he felt._

Shaking his head, he pulled his desk drawer open again to take out the case files. It couldn't hurt to look over them one more time. They couldn't even connect Kenny's murder to the other murders that had occurred before. His was far more gruesome. Images of his sliced and exposed flesh were still fresh in Craig's mind. Every time he shut his eyes, there it was. He couldn't escape it. Kenny was a friend to everyone; a good person, even if he had done some questionable things in the past and present, it was nothing to warrant this slaughter. Even if Kenny's ghost really was there, Craig could understand the anger.

"Craig, wake up, you dumb ho," Eric yelled at him from across the room. "IF this is how you're going about Kenny's case, I guess his murderer has nothing to worry about."

"Shut up, fatty," he mumbled. "I'm just going at my own pace. I'm in charge of this investigation, so do your own thing."

Eric just rolled his eyes and left mumbling something offensive as usual.

It wasn't long after that he began dozing off in his seat, and Wendy forced him to go home. He would be virtually useless as he was, unable to make any coherent thoughts. It would be pointless to keep him working in such a state, so she talked to the chief, and in a combined effort, they sent Craig home for the day. He was very displeased by the choice, but there was nothing he could really do about it, so instead of arguing he simply left. After the whole situation with Kenny's ghost, he figured it would probably be for the best anyway. It was probably just the stress from discovering his friend's body, right? Yeah, that was it...

He opened the door to his apartment and flicked on the lights just briefly before flicking them back off. Too bright. He already had a headache, needn't make it worse. Instead, he waited for his eyes to adjust and walked down the hall. Since it was still sunny out, the light filtered in through the blinds, allowing him to make out where everything was still.

He went right to his bedroom, passing the empty guinea pig cage in the hallway. The last one he had was given to him by someone he used to know, and once it had died, he couldn't bring himself to buy another. It felt strange; somehow wrong. "Rest in peace, Stripe." He pat the cage, slipping into his room. It was the same as it always had been, plain walls, plain bedsheets, pillow cases and blankets. Everything was a light blue except for the walls, which were a salmony yellow. There was a desk, where he put his computer when he didn't bring it with him to work, and a small lamp with a couple of books, but Craig was always one to live modestly. He never cared to have tons and tons of things; it seemed pointless.

He flopped himself onto the bed with a grunt, not bothering to take his work clothes or shoes off. He was far too exhausted, and before he knew it, he had drifted into dreamland. 

\+ + +

"I'm worried about him, Bebe." The two girls were seated at the Tweak's cafe, Wendy tapping her fingers against the table in thought. "He doesn't seem emotionally stable right now. I know losing a friend is hard... Kenny was always kind to me too, but..." she trailed off. What could she say that didn't sound insensitive? Craig shouldn't have taken the case? He should have laid it onto someone else? There was no way he would, especially considering that he was directly involved. Along with Kyle, the one who Kenny called on the phone before his death was Craig. Of course he would feel involved.

"Oh, sweetie, try to breath." Bebe crossed her legs, holding the coffee mug in her hands. "I know Craig might be frazzled right now, but he'll be okay. He always is. Remember when Ruby was in the hospital? Craig was totally freaked out, and everyone was worried about him, but he bounced back... This time, he just needs a bit longer, that's all. We just have to show our support. I know you are." She reached one hand forward and gave Wendy's a pat. "But don't lose hope in him."

"Yeah, I know, you're right." As she let out a sigh, a familiar face came over to check on them.

"I-is everything okay? With... With the coffee I mean!"

"Hey, Tweek, thanks, everything is fine." Wendy smiled at him. "How are you?"

"Fine!"

Bebe frowned for a moment. "Are you really...? I know you've only been back in South Park for a week or two, but... I heard you seen Craig."

The blond haired boy suddenly looked tense, glancing away. "I did... B-but it's unimportant. He didn't see me."

Wendy and Bebe exchanged worried looks. Ever since the end of high school, Craig and Tweek had avoided each other like the plague. It seemed so wrong. So unbelievable considering how in love they'd been. No one knew what happened, though, and Tweek and Craig would never tell either. It was just a big a mystery as the serial murderer. Wendy remembered some parts, a lot of yelling and arguing in the back of the school. Tweek always sounded so pleading, and Craig like he didn't want to listen, however that was the strange thing. Craig was always known around for being a great boyfriend, and they could all see it. The way he paid attention to only Tweek whenever they were together, how much he listened and changed his behavior to be more comforting to the more jittery guy. So, when they broke up, it was a shock.

"Tweek... I really think it would benefit you both to have a conversation. A real one, you know?" Wendy said. "I could come along, to help mediate, if you wanted?"

"N-no!! That's f-fine! If the coffee is okay, then I'm glad, but I don't want to see him!" He held on tightly to the notebook he was holding to write down orders. "He doesn't want to see me either."

"Tweek, that's-"

"Wendy, Bebe, I appreciate your concern, but it's fine!" he managed, between a couple pauses. "Please don't bring it up."

Wendy pursed her lips, but sighed, relenting. "Alright, I won't. I'm sorry. If you ever do want to talk about it, please come to me, though."

"Yeah..." he replied, having no intentions to. What happened between him and Craig was just that--between them. It was no one else's business and he didn't intent to make it so. Besides, Craig had clearly moved on, so it was time for him to too. He turned back around and headed to the counter, setting the notebook down. He had only returned since he finished school. Between all the gap years he took because of his anxiety, and the fact that he'd gone so late anyway, it had taken a while, but it was something he was proud of himself for doing. Still, being away from South Park brought both a sick feeling and a relieving one. He dreaded seeing Craig every moment he returned back, and finally he had just the other day. He looked well. Taller, more handsome, with that same calm expression he remembered, only those were good things. He didn't want to remember good things, because if he did, it would be harder to forget the bad.

"I'm.. going home for a bit," he called to his father, who was standing by the cash register.

"Okay, Tweek. See you at home. Tell your mother to make that casserole I like for dinner." He smiled peacefully as usual.

"Okay..."

Grabbing the house keys and his coat, he left the cafe. Wendy and Bebe watched him leave, but said nothing and only waved. This, too, would take time.

\+ + +

Tweek closed his eyes, pushing the door of his house open. It had only been a week, but he couldn't wait to find somewhere to live on his own. Being back with his parents only reminded him why he left. Well, part of it.

His mother greeted him, and he relayed the casserole info before heading up to his old room and sitting on his bed. As usual, there were ghosts everywhere. He passed by them every single day, but he was used to most of these ones. They were kind to him, and gave him company when no one else would, especially the ones in his house. There was a woman, older, who was always sitting on a chair beside his bed, knitting. He would talk to her often about his life, trying to get advice from someone so much more experienced, and she would give it to him. 

The day he got back, she gave him a better welcome than his own parents, who just picked him up from the station and went on to talk about adding something new to their coffee menu for the season.

"Tweek, my boy, you're home early."

"Y-yeah... I felt a little sick."

"Oh, dear, you're not ill, are you?" She frowned, pausing her knitting.

"N-no, not that kind of sick..!"

"Ah," she hummed. "Well, why don't you take a seat and we can talk it out?"

Tweek did as she said, and they spoke, as usual, for hours, until the sun was down and it was time for dinner. 


	4. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hit preview and then my whole chapter disappeared so i crave death? luckily i had most saved, but fuck me man. i had to write the end again, totally forgot what i had, so it's gonna be not as great but i'm too bummed out.

_ Chasing, chasing, chasing. _

Craig was woken up again, in the middle of the night, by a crashing sound in his bedroom. It startled him so badly, he threw himself off his bed in a panic, thinking someone broke in. "Hello?" he whispered, picking up the baseball bat in the corner of the room, precisely for situations like these. 

South Park was a small town, yes, but dear god did it have a lot of criminal activity. Enough that Craig kept his gun close for any real emergencies, however he never wanted to use it. To shoot someone, possibly kill someone, it seemed so weird to him. Especially for situations like thieving or something petty. He could never bring himself to shoot someone like that. Murderers or rapists were another story, of course, and luckily Wendy shared most of his views on gun use, so they didn't have many issues with their partnership. She was fast as lightning anyway, and strong. Whenever there was a runner, they never even had to use their guns because Wendy would just tackle them to the ground.

"Hello?" he whispered again, peeking out the hallway. There was no one there, however, so he flicked the lights on in his room to see if something might have just fallen. That wouldn't be particularly out of the ordinary, right?

Everything was as it was before except for an old glass of water he had from a couple nights ago was on the ground. Luckily, the glass itself was mostly unharmed save for one or two pieces that had cracked off, but he wondered how that happened. Was it too close to the edge? Was there a draft? He couldn't remember where he had put it to begin with, so he didn't question it too much and instead, picked up the pieces carefully and disposed of them with a tired sigh. He was really beginning to get drained. There were far too many thoughts in his head to sleep much now.

He returned to his bed and sat there for a moment, staring at the ceiling as if something would happen. He didn't really expect it to, so he was more than shocked when it  _did._  

Out of the corner of his eye, his bedroom door creaked open again. He didn't shut it all the way to begin with, but his home was very even. Even if he did leave a door partly open, it would barely move unless he had a window open. This was different, though. The door moved open like someone was pushing it slowly.

He watched it for a while until it stopped, leaving a crack big enough for a human to walk through, but what came instead was the guinea pig cage.

"No fucking way." He stared in disbelief as the cage  _literally_  floated toward him. "Fuck off." He plastered himself against the headboard of his bed and flipped the cage off. "Go away. I'm dreaming. I must be. There's no way this could happen."

The guinea pig cage stopped itself right at the edge of his bed. It would almost be comical if it weren't for the circumstance. It waited there for a long while, Craig just staring in shock still, swallowing down his previous panic. He reached out to touch the cage, feeling the cold metal on his hands. It was real... It was really there.

"How..."

Just at that moment, the cage shook a little. If Stripe was still in there, Craig would have been so pissed, but now he was just disturbed. An empty guinea pig cage shaking at the foot of his bed. What the actual fuck. He was less scared now and more confused. Was this supposed to be a sign?

"If you're trying to say something, I don't speak shake." He looked around the room again. If it wasn't the ghost of Stripe coming back for a greeting, then he only imagined it was the same entity that was harassing him at work. Then.... "Kenny?"

The shaking stopped.

"Kenny... Is it really you? Are you not just my imagination?"

No reply.

"See, no offense, but when you do stuff like this and then don't reply, it makes it harder to believe I'm not hallucinating from lack of sleep." He could almost hear Kenny rolling his eyes in the afterlife. 

Still, there was no reply.

"What do you want from me...?" Craig said, sounding pleading. "I'm on your case. I haven't given up. Me and Wendy are working on it. We even got Kyle and sort of Marsh. I don't know what you were trying to tell Kyle, but I'll try to figure that out too." He could have literally been talking to himself in his delirious state, or, Kenny was there, and he was receiving all this information in the best case scenario.

He waited another long moment for an answer and finally got one, which was the cage slightly shaking again. If Kenny's attempts at communication were like this, it wasn't going to be much help.

"Let's try something else... One shake for yes, and two shakes for no, okay?"

No reply.

"I'll take that as a yes then. First, are you Kenny McCormick?"

One shake.

Craig let out a sigh of mixed emotions; relief, worry, even guilt. "Fuck. Okay. Then... Do you know..." he swallowed again, feeling himself tense up. "Do you know who killed you?"

One shake.

Craig's eyes widened. "Can you tell me!? Somehow!?"

Two shakes, and his emotions died down. That was a no. Kenny knew his murderer, but he couldn't tell Craig? Why not?

"Is there a reason you can't tell me?"

One shake. He knew he couldn't find the reason out if this was the extent of communication. Maybe that was why Kenny also couldn't tell him who murdered him. It was impossible for him to communicate other than a couple shakes here and there. Of course he couldn't speak the name of his killer. Maybe he could do it another way.

That was when it hit him.

"There..." he sighed. "There was a reason you chose the guinea pig cage, wasn't there?"

One shake.

"Fucking knew it."

There was no avoiding it now.

\+ +

"Boy, you look much better than before." Wendy's early morning smile was just as bright as any other time of the day. She also looked a deal more put together than usual. "I know it's only been a few days, but the longer I dwell on Kenny's death, the less time we have to solve his murder. I want to do him justice. He wouldn't want us to be sad."

"Yeah, I know." Craig rubbed his head. "Wendy, listen, I need to tell you something."

"Hm?" She cocked her head to the side. "What is it?"

"Don't think I'm crazy. I'm perfectly sane-" he realized the irony of him saying this, considering that this is how  _he_  must have felt... He felt a slap of guilt again, but kept talking despite that. "Kenny's ghost is wandering around trying to help me solve his case."

Wendy stared at him for a moment--quite a long moment. He was beginning to feel like he really was crazy by the time she finally spoke up. "Craig. I have only one thing to say to you."

He waited.

"If you have realized something, you should go to him."

"What? Wendy, what does that even mean?"

"Figure it out yourself, ghost whisperer!" She crossed her arms. "I will believe you, but only because Kenny came to me too. I wasn't sure it was him at first, but after a while of asking yes or no questions, I believed it..."

Ah, Craig thought. They did the exact same thing.

"Trust me, I thought I was hallucinating too, but this is real. As bizarre as South Park is, it shouldn't be that hard to believe there are ghosts among us, which is why..." she trailed off. "Go to him."

"Wendy, I-"

"You know exactly who I'm talking about. Don't play dumb, Tucker. You've been put in the shoes of someone you once loved. It shouldn't be hard to pick yourself up and apologize." She closed her eyes, somehow still looking stern. "He returned a week ago. I've seen him, and he is the same guy as before. So, please, for the love of god, just go."

"What am I supposed to say?" He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'm not a ghost whisperer. I don't know any of this shit. I don't know what it means or how to talk to them. I can't see Kenny."

"But he can. Isn't that enough of a reason?"

Craig bit his lip, looking away for a moment. It was true, there were rumors back then about Tweek being able to see ghosts, communicating with them and saying they were his friends, but it was also the reason they had fought so much. Craig was so determined back then. He didn't believe in anything so illogical such as ghosts existing and being able to talk to only certain people. It seemed unbelievably weird. 

He remembered telling Tweek to try seeing a therapist if he was hallucinating, and that was the kicker. Tweek was so offended, yelling that he wasn't crazy, that he thought Craig was different, and Craig lost his cool too. He yelled back that he was only saying it because he cared.

Tweek didn't have it though. He ran off and ignored Craig and that was only the beginning of their arguments. It all stemmed around the same thing. Tweek exclaiming that he wasn't crazy, and Craig suggesting things he thought would help. He began to get so worried he had reverted to how he was before they made up back in elementary school. But that wasn't right. That wasn't what Tweek needed.

"It was all my fault. He wouldn't want to see me anyway."

Wendy looked vaguely amused considering that was just what Tweek said to her about Craig. "Isn't finding Kenny's murderer more important than a feud? Do you know what he's probably thinking right now? That you two should hurry and make up before he kills himself in the afterlife again."

"Not sure it works like that, but okay."

"It's fine, just listen! Are you going to do it, or will I have to?"

Craig clenched his fists tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure. In his own weird way, Kenny was still helping him with his problems, even in the afterlife. "I'll go. Just, give me a bit of time first."

"Alright. We don't have forever, though. We still can't connect Kenny's death to the serial killer who's been going after the street workers. Prostitutes, drug dealers and the like. They're still being murdered. There was another body discovered this morning." She turned grim. "So, please hurry."

"I will."

With that, they parted ways. Wendy went to investigate the new crime scene and talk with Red, and Craig went back to his desk to make some important phone calls. He dialed three people, in order. First was Kyle, second was Eric, and third was a call he didn't finish. He simply hung up the phone as soon as he heard a familiar stutter.

"H-hello, this is Tweak Bro's... How can I help you?"

He wasn't ready. Just hearing that voice made his heart feel heavy. He needed more time. As for Kyle and Eric, the two people he found the most suspicious since the beginning, he begged that Kenny would be there to give him some sort of sign for something. Whatever it was that he wanted to tell Kyle, maybe somehow, they could find out. And Eric, who was, in Craig's book, the most suspicious of all. The amount of times Craig had heard him say "maybe they shouldn't have been on the street then!" in response to another murder was too disgusting for him not to be a suspect.

They were his last hope. If he could get something--anything from them, he would consider it a success, but if not, then there was Tweek... He didn't want to think of him like that though. There was so much left unanswered between them, so many things he wished he could take back. It would be far too awkward to waltz over there and suddenly speak to him about a murder.

If only he had just a little more time.


	5. Coming up Empty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the quote below is by margaret peters, for anyone wondering! it's one of my fav quotes, and matches well for this chapter.

_Time has a wonderful way of showing us what truly matters._

 

 

Craig found himself walking down the street in a daze, boots crunching against the freshly fallen snow of last night. It was quiet as usual in their small mountain town, but eerily so today. There wasn't the usual distant chatter of street workers because most were either dead or in hiding because they were scared. Craig didn't blame them; in fact it only made his conviction grow. Seeing the streets this empty was unnatural.

He felt like he was walking in slow motion, his coat flapping behind him from the wind as he set his sights on the one place he didn't want to be. Tweek Bro's Cafe. It was the only place around that seemed to still be filled with people ready to grab their afternoon coffee.

He couldn't see much from outside because of the glare from the sun on the windows, so he stepped to the door and put a hand on it, sliding it to the door handle. He took a deep breath, then pulled it open and stepped inside. He didn't expect a greeting of any sort, or even a nod of acknowledgement; people were busy, going about their days. However, the closer he got to the counter, the more nervous he grew.

The palm of his hand reached the bell on the counter, pressing it for someone to come to the front. It wasn't long until Tweek's father appeared from the back with his usual calm smile. "Oh, Craig. How nice to see you on such a cold day. Come in for some coffee? You know, on a cold day, coffee is like the warm smile of your lover gree-"

"Um, not to interrupt... uh... Is Tweek here?"

"My son..? Well, no, I'm sorry, he's not."

"Oh... I see. Do you know where he is?"

Richard tapped his chin. "He's probably still at home. He won't be working today."

Craig felt like he couldn't just go to his house. This wasn't like the past; he couldn't just open the door himself and walk in anymore. Even if the Tweaks didn't seem angry with him, he doubted he would be so lucky with their son. "Thank you. I'll see you around."

"Are you sure you don't want a nice hot cup of coffee? The freshe-"

"I'll take one, actually." For old time's sake. He hadn't been in this cafe for years because of what had happened, and not that their coffee was amazing or anything, but he had gotten quite used to the taste over all the years, so it would be like taking a sip from nostalgia.

Once the coffee was made and Craig paid the man, he said goodbye and began walking back to the doors, but was stopped by another familiar face.

"Craig, hello."

"Oh, uh, Mr. Brovlovski... hi?" He hoped he wasn't going to get a lecture.

"Sorry to bother you, but have you made any headway on this case? My son's been affected greatly by it, and I'm not altogether pleased." He looked in a bit of a huff. "Kyle is barely sleeping from worry, so you need to solve this case as soon as possible."

"I'm doing my best. We all are," Craig replied, really not in the mood to be lectured by someone's dad about how he was doing his work. "I need to get back to work now, so if you'll excuse me, I'll be going." He ignored the annoyed sounds from Gerald, the yelling after him, everything, as he walked back outside in that same daze as before.

He'd begun to feel when Kenny was around or not, just by the shift of energy in his surroundings, and he seemed to be close, following; waiting. He knew where Craig was headed and he wanted to be along for the ride. It wouldn't necessarily bother him if it weren't for the nagging feeling that Tweek would slam the door right in his face. Then, Kenny would see; he would understand why he never went back.

The time was passing so slowly as he made his way to Tweek's, turning the last corner at the edge of the street and walking directly toward the dark brown house he'd become so accustomed to in his youth. As soon as he reached the stairs, it felt as though time sped up instantly and he got the wind knocked back into him, and suddenly he was knocking on the door. How did that even happen?

He waited in near agony as more time passed and flurries began to fall from the sky once more.

The sound of the doorknob turning brought him out of his trance, and he sucked in a breath, holding it as the door creaked open and forest green eyes peeked out at him. 

He barely had time to react before the person behind the door let out a gasp and hid himself again, which only made Craig feel guiltier. "Tweek, we need to talk."

"You are like 10 years too late for talking!!" he yelled from behind the door, although it was still open a crack, which Craig took slight advantage of by pushing it open, causing Tweek to let out a yelp and jump back, putting his fists up. "I swear I w-will punch you so hard if you come closer."

Craig couldn't deny he looked upset, angry even, but he didn't slam the door in his face, which was a good sign to him. "Tweek, I know you're mad, mad at me... and I know I deserve every bit of it, but please just listen to me."

Tweek let out a sigh, relaxing his fists. He  _was_ upset, angry and embarrassed, but not only with Craig. With himself too. There was a lot of things that went wrong the last year they were together. Although it was definitely Craig's fault, it was Tweek's too, and he knew that, he knew he wasn't the easiest person to talk to about anything, but that was still no excuse! He didn't think Craig would ever want to see him again after what they went through, and yet here he was on his doorstep. It had been so long, that every night that Tweek would pray he would come by, or call began to become less and less frequent. It then reached a point where he stopped trying to pray for something which would never get answered.

Craig took this opportunity of silence to speak up. "I know we broke up so long ago... and... I know you must hate me for what I did. I wasn't fair to you, I'm sorry. Tweek, I'm so sorry. I wanted to talk to you after it happened, but I lost control of my emotions. I thought I could only talk to you if you talked to me first. I convinced myself that I rather thought you had things to say to me instead. So when you didn't come, I got frustrated, and the silence went on far longer than it should have."

Tweek just stared at him, looking both confused and shocked.

"I should have just gotten over myself and went to talk it out with you. If I did, none of this would have happened between us. We always talked it out, even when we were kids."

"I guess...." Tweek said, still not properly speaking up about anything. He knew it wasn't only Craig. He had a part in this too. He was explosive and loud and he had such a hard time dealing with people. When the fighting started, he made it worse by refusing to listen. Together they'd effectively ruined what they had.

"I'm sorry," Craig repeated, sounding genuinely upset. "Will you ever forgive me?"

It seemed wrong. Weird. It was like Craig was taking responsibility for the whole thing, but Tweek knew that wasn't right. It wasn't only him. "Stop that."

Craig looked at him, surprise in his eyes. "Stop... what?"

"Taking responsibility for it all...! Nn... It's stupid! You're being stupid!" He tugged at his shirt slightly. "You know it wasn't only your fault. You know I didn't listen to you, and that I ran away from you, you know that, so stop pretending..!"

He thought it would be easier to swallow his pride and take responsibility for the whole thing, but Tweek didn't seem to be having it. "Then what do you want to hear?"

"Augh..! I don't know! I want to hear why you didn't come for 10 years!"

"I felt guilty. I thought you wouldn't want to see me ever again." It was the absolute truth. "I never felt ready, either."

"R-ready..?"

"To talk to you. To tell you I was sorry, to say anything that would make it better. I shouldn't have told you you needed therapy, I shouldn't have thought you were just hallucinating, but I didn't believe any of that until recently... I was just worried about you. I wanted to help but I didn't know how, and whatever I did just seemed to make it worse. I lost control of my emotions again, and it made me angry."

Tweek looked offended for a moment before turning away from Craig and biting the tip of his thumb. He wanted to be angry again, but there was nothing in what Craig said that should allow him to be. While he should have just come to him to talk, Tweek could say the same about himself. He was no stranger to anxiety, and it only seemed to get worse after they broke up, because he had lost the only thing in the world that had ever calmed him down, and that was a person; it was Craig.

"Craig... It won't be the same. We both did wrong. We both messed up!"

He felt a pain in his heart when Tweek said that, but he couldn't pray for anything different. He just wanted to talk to him again, and not only for the sake of this case. Seeing him again, his tired eyes, his messy blond hair and pale skin from lack of sleep. He just wanted to be able to calm him down again.

"I-I know now that you were trying to help me, but that still doesn't mean it was the right way." He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. "Did you really come here for me? Or was it just for him?"

"Him?" Craig whispered, looking around the entrance. "Do.. do you see him?"

"Of course I do, Craig." He sounded exhausted. "That is why you came, isn't it..?"

Craig swallowed and took a deep breath. "Not only that... Wendy told me she seen you, and that you seen me. I thought about it a lot. About how bad we left things, about how I wanted to fix it, but I never had the courage to until I had another reason. I thought I could pretend that I just needed your help, but that's wrong too. I need your help, Tweek, but I want to fix things between us too."

"Do you..?" Tweek was unsure. It had been so long it didn't feel right. "It won't be the same," he repeated. "It never will be... But I'm sorry too."

"I know," Craig said. He'd accepted that long ago. "But maybe it can be better."

At that, Tweek turned around to face him, then behind him. "I.. will help, but right now, only for Kenny."

"I understand."

"If you want to properly fix things, it will take time! And you can't... go back to how you were." He frowned. 

"I won't. I promise. Not again."

Not again. Now that he was here, he wasn't about to sabotage himself. Tweek was willing to help; he was willing to give Craig a chance at redemption, and even apologized for his own past self. That, at least, was a start.


	6. Phase 1: Collect Info, Phase 2: ?, Phase 3: Profit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait :') i did not get tired of this story if you were worried!! i still have hella inspiration for it and many ideas! a couple unfortunate things just happened. thanks for reading!

_Follow your dreams, even if that includes running through some nightmares  
paulo coelho_

 

 

It was awkward. More awkward that when he took his high school class photos and there was food stuck in his braces, more awkward than the time he walked in on his little sister watching questionable content, and even  _more_ awkward that when they had broken up in the first place, and had to see each other every day after that until high school was over. It was just painful. He would look at Tweek, and Tweek would look back to him, then quickly look away as if he was trying to hide it. They were waiting for Kenny to return. Where he had gone, Craig had no idea, but as soon as Tweek had let him in, told him he would forgive him, Kenny had vanished.

Craig was seated in Tweek's kitchen, a place he never thought he'd be in ever again, watching the other as he shakily moved about, trying to make what he only presumed could be coffee. He was still drinking it. Looked to be even more than he used to, which he supposed was to be expected. Tweek always had a problem with anxiety, and it caused him to get so little sleep, but when Craig told him drinking that much coffee would only make it worse, he again, didn't want to hear it. He had at least managed to get him down to two cups a day while they were dating, but after they broke up, he was back to his usual. It was kind of sad when he thought about it. He had been able to do something like that for him... to ease his anxiety if only slightly, to calm him down, and he'd up and ruined it.

"D..do you... um, want?" Tweek didn't turn around, but he was pouring coffee into a mug for himself. There was another one off to the side he had brought down for Craig, just in case.

"Oh. Sure." He had already drank some coffee that morning, but he didn't really want to refuse anything right now in case it would turn Tweek away, or make him angry.

Tweek didn't answer that, and instead poured the coffee into the extra mug and walked over, handing it to Craig. It was strange. The layout of the house was the same of course, but he expected things to have changed. Small decorations or their furniture, plates or cups, but it was all the same... Even... the dreamcatcher.

"You kept it."

"Huh?" Tweek looked at him finally as he sat down at the other side of the table, taking a small sip of the hot coffee. "I kept  _what?_ "

He nodded toward the dreamcatcher. It looked a bit older now, as expected, but it was still in good shape. Although it wasn't going to do much hanging in the kitchen like that.

"Oh," Tweek mumbled. "I tried to... get rid of it... but my mom wouldn't let me. Sh-she said it was too beautiful, so if I didn't want it in my room, she'd just put it in the kitchen. Either way I had to look at it so it didn't even matter." He just didn't want it in his room. After they broke up, he wanted to get rid of everything Craig had ever given him, or anything that reminded him of the person who broke his heart. When he tried to throw the dreamcatcher out, his mother went on about how it was such a shame; he should keep it; it was so beautiful, so he just told her  _she_ could keep it, and she betrayed him by hanging it in the kitchen in clear sight.

"Wow, savage. I guess I understand that." He rubbed his head. "I deserved that."

Tweek looked at him, seemingly uneasy. He wished that he could just forgive Craig and they could go back to normal, that none of this had ever happened. He wanted to forget it all, and move on; he wanted to touch him... At this point it was hard to believe he was even real. Craig Tucker, knocking on his door, asking for his help on something he didn't even used to believe. Even though Kenny was dead, and the thought alone caused him grief, he had only him to thank for this. For the chance to really speak to him again, even if he was still putting on such a hard face. "At one point, it did help..."

"Oh?"

When he was younger, and often alone all day while his parents worked, he would think a lot, and those thoughts were always riddled with anxiety which caused restless sleep full of nightmares. The day Craig handed him the dreamcatcher, he didn't really believe it would do anything, even if he was dead set on telling Tweek that he went to the Native American reserve just to learn how to make one for him. He wanted it to be 100% authentic in order to help. Authentic or not, Tweek had no intention to really use it until one night where he woke up in a cold sweat, eyes watery from crying in his sleep. He often suffered like this without telling anyone, but as he trusted Craig, and let him in, he thought that using such a thing couldn't do any harm. So, he hung the dreamcatcher up above his bed, tried to calm himself down a bit, and eventually fell back into slumber. It was the first night he had only woke up once.

He glanced back at Craig with a softer expression as he remembered, but quickly shook it off. He was mainly here for a job. To find Kenny's murderer. "It's not important. Anyway, Kenny... he might have used too much energy.. trying to.. er, communicate with you." He'd learned that throughout the years, if a spirit used too much of its energy to do simple things like moving things around, they would fade away for a while. He wasn't ever sure where they went. None of them seemed to remember, so he thought it wasn't as important. It was never a sure thing that they would return at a certain time either; it was always different, so he couldn't give Craig anything to go by except "be patient," but he couldn't. He was already wasting time just sitting drinking coffee while the murderer was out there. At least it seemed as though they only killed at night, so he should have had some time.

"I see." He put a hand on his head, rubbing his temples. "Once he's back... you can really .. er, communicate properly with him, right?"

Tweek frowned. "Are you doubting me again?"

He shook his head. "No... I've learned my lesson. I was wrong, and I know that now. I believe you. I'm just stressed. This case is taking a lot out of me."

Tweek imagined that must be true. It was a relief hearing him say that he was believed, however even after everything, seeing Craig so stressed wasn't nice. He wanted this to be strictly work oriented, but he was already finding it difficult, so he diverted his attention back to the dark brown coffee swirling around in his cup. "At the.. least, I might be able to see something at the crime scene, o-or ask the spirits that hang around there."

"There are spirits around there?"

"Oh yes, many."

"Well, Jesus."

"Jesus, indeed..." He stood up and poured the remainder of his coffee into a travel mug. "I-I'll get ready! Just wait at the front, okay!"

Craig stood up, taking a big gulp of the coffee so he wouldn't waste it, inevitably causing him to choke slightly, and when he opened his mouth to say 'okay', as if he couldn't make it worse, he drooled out coffee. "Oh, fuck."

Tweek just stared at him like he had six heads. That was so unbelievably clumsy, it almost reminded him of the dork he knew in high school. "Jesus Christ, Craig..." Somehow, throughout that beautiful moment he witnessed, he actually let out a tiny chuckle. It was too silly not to, but it didn't mean anything! It didn't mean he was suddenly okay with Craig or what happened.

Hearing Tweek laugh, though, from Craig's point of view, was a shock. He didn't really get to comment on it considering Tweek just booked it out of the room to change, and as he set the mug in the sink and returned to the front door to wait, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Even after Tweek had returned, dressed comfortably and warm, with a neutral expression, Craig still saw that small smile. 

As they left the house, Craig recovered by the touch of the cold air, and began to explain to Tweek about the serial murderer. He left out details that only the detectives should know, but the gist was told. There were many murders of street workers, including Kenny, which had been discovered the past month or so, and their leads were running cold. Whoever it was was a member of this town, likely a male, and likely someone people knew, but that was all they could find out. Crime scenes which should have given them clues were clean and seemingly untouched other than the remains of the bodies. Tweek conveyed that he might be able to find the ghosts of the murdered people and talk to them while they waited for Kenny to return; perhaps they could figure out a better profile from them, so the duo made their way to the location the first body was discovered. 

It was cold there. Not  _just_ cold, but bone chilling. There was something about the crime scene that made Tweek very uncomfortable, even if everything had since been cleaned up. "There's no one here." He shook his head. Whoever was murdered had long since left, so they wasted no time staying, and hopped from crime scene to crime scene until they happened upon a more recent one. One of the last 3 murdered. Tweek had spotted a ghost hanging out on top of the garbage can. She was sitting there with her legs pulled up, and a frown on her face.

"E-excuse me...?" Tweek called over to her, but she didn't reply. It wasn't particularly strange considering by now she must have realized she was dead, and no one could see or hear her. Whenever he called to ghosts, they never initially replied, so he took a couple nervous steps closer until he was in front of her. "Um... miss?"

She glanced up at him out of surprise that someone was standing right in front of her, but quickly looked from side to side to see if she was near someone else. "Y-you can see me...?"

"Er.. yes..." He answered, looking as awkward as ever. Even doing this for how long he had been, he'd never found it any easier. They were still strangers. "I'm h-here with um, this guy..." He motioned to Craig. "He's working on your cases... Finding out who has been murdering the, uh, str-street workers..."

"You actually care about that?" She glanced to Craig, wondering if he, too, could see.

"He does. Um, many of the detectives do... There has been a lot of murders and they want to find who is doing it, but so far they couldn't find many clues."

"Tch. Some good detectives you guys are."

Tweek swallowed, taking a shaky breath of air. "They're trying... Please, if you could tell us anything you know about that night? Anything you remember about who did this..."

She sighed, crossing her arms. "Well, fuckin hell, it was a while ago, and my memory is shit now that I'm dead, but I guess I'll try." She tapped her forehead for a moment as if she was trying to recall. "It was definitely a man. He was... tall, angry... I thought he just wanted a fuck, because he approached me holding out money, but when he walked down the alleyway, he put it away and just lunged at me like some sort of madman. I can't remember his face very well, and he was wearing a hat. One of those ugly fedora hats. He was wearing a coat too, a really long one, like he was really trying to hide. Guess I should've figured something wasn't right, but... Money is money, you know. Times are tough lately... Or, were, I guess..."

"I see..." Tweek said quietly. He'd always been fairly well off considering his parents were business owners, so he couldn't put himself in that place, but he felt for them. Felt terrible they had to go through dangerous situations just for money. If it was just legal, they would already be in so much less danger. "Did he, um, say anything? To you..."

She thought for a moment. "Not really... Just casual stuff, like how much, follow me... and then when he attacked me... before I died, he told me I should be thankful. That he was cleaning up a mess." She pursed her lips, as though she might cry. "That's it, though.... That's all I remember. Does it help? Can you find this fucking bastard?"

Tweek turned to Craig, nervously holding himself. He knew Craig didn't hear anything, so he'd have to relay the info later, but he believed this would help. It had to be more information already. "It does. Thank you... If you remember anything else, you can come back to me..."

"Yeah... sure."

After Tweek relayed the information to Craig, and he got a few more smaller questions in, they left the woman to herself since there was nothing else they could do. They did get something out of that visit, at least. A mysterious man in a fedora and long coat, who thought he was 'cleaning' messes by killing street workers. It sounded so insane to him, but it was more than he'd gotten since he started this case.

"Tweek, thank you... Without you, I would never have been able to question someone who was already dead. You don't know how much it means to me that you're doing this. Despite our past."

"... Our past is... our past. It's over now, so... Let's just move on! God, if you keep bringing it up, I will seriously punch you!"

Craig didn't doubt that, but it made him chuckle a bit. "Okay, sorry... Let's get this info back to Wendy. What do you say?"

"Yeah. Okay."


End file.
